


By The Skin Of His Teeth

by THA_THUMPP



Series: twd s05- | rickyl drabbles [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Episode: s05e07 Crossed, Insecurity, M/M, One Shot, Protective Rick, Rickyl, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl nearly lost his life during the grapple on the asphalt with that cop from Atlanta, and at the same time he almost lost Rick, almost let the man he loved slip right through his fingers... for <em>his</em> sake. Daryl'd never be able to live with himself if he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Skin Of His Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Like our first TWD drabble for S5, the feels were also on fire for this one shot too. Too bad uni kept them constipated for half the flipping week... Le sigh.

Daryl knows that look.

He’s seen it one too many times not to. Back with Shane. During whatever fights broke out at the prison. With that prick, the Governor. It’s a look that meant war. Better yet, it meant Rick was pissed, riled and ready to seethe through his teeth despite them being tucked away behind his lips. Lips that’re drawn real good, like the man’s eyes… and the gun.

Nah. ‘Specially the gun.

It’s held out at an angle straighter than Daryl’s seen it before, pointed just enough to reflect Rick’s intentions. ‘Cause truth be that one shot earlier was only to take care of what needed to be done. Man’s not even giving himself the chance to blink, not letting himself lose sight of that Atlanta douchebag from within the center of his crosshairs with a sway meant for a snake in a trance – and right now, Daryl’d be damned if he didn’t think of Rick as cold-blooded.

It’s in the man’s gaze, the mean, electric stare.

 _You messed with my family,_ it says, _and now you’re gonna have to pay._

Pay, as in _die_. It’s written so clear across Rick’s face that Daryl’d almost like think that even someone who doesn’t know him all that well can spot it – like the cop from Atlanta. But there’s such a thing nowadays as giving too much credit, ‘cause even if the sonuvabitch looks smart, looks ain’t enough to get him to watch his mouth. To not run it like a hose by telling Rick that he wins with that little perk of _asshole_ at the end. ‘Cause it’s right then and there that Daryl nearly imagines the trigger pulled.

Threats like that, all they do is push the man’s buttons. Daryl can see that when Rick’s grip tightens visibly ‘round the trigger of his gun and the way he shies forward just half a step. But what’s most telling is the way he teases his tongue across his bottom lip. It means he’s ready to taste blood, he _wants_ to taste blood, and Daryl keeps that in mind as he tows himself to his knees.

Except just as he does the Atlanta cop seems to sense his movement, thinking to use it as an opportunity to move too, and is halfway to a stand before Daryl can do a double take. Still rocking like he thinks he can dodge a bullet and a face so tense that maybe now he’s realizing just how bad he’s screwed up.

But dude don’ know shit, Daryl pines, if he did his hands’d be high above his head and he’d be backing off. Not trying to read what’s coming next in a pair of eyes begging him to make a wrong move, and definitely not when there’s a tension there so thick in the air a machete wouldn’t be able to put a dent in it, let alone slice it in two.

All that Atlanta cop’s looking to do is dig his pig-headed self a deeper grave – unless something’s said in his defense, which suddenly Daryl feels like he’s gotta do despite the temper twisting his own chest. ‘Cause right now it’s more like worry.

If Rick pulls that trigger it’s over, the plan’s thrown. For Carol, for Beth… for himself. ‘Cause dammit, if Rick _pulls_ that trigger there goes any shred of common sense he has left, his sense of justice for his own reasons and not the greater good, and Daryl doesn’t want that. So he does what he can to save that Atlanta prick that all but cost him his life. He does what he can to save Rick from his inner Shane. ‘Cause he can’t lose Rick to reckoning, not when they’ve both come so far as it was – through hell and high water, and before Daryl knows it he’s calling out.

“Rick.” He says real low, also insecure, and only gives it about a three-second pause before trying again, a little louder. “Rick.”

But the reaction’s no different, Rick still don’t hear him. Man’s all kinds of zoned, with his eyes never straying from the barrel of his gun and his head already tipping just short of straight, tipping like a scale, as if he’s weighing the cop’s fate – and it’s that earmark right there that has Daryl hurrying to stand tall, to be up on his feet.

“ _Rick_.” Daryl calls out again, for a third time.

And in that moment it’s calmer, ‘specially when noticing he’s finally managed to catch Rick’s attention, and once Daryl’s got it he ain’t about to let it go. Instead, he throws a hand out and talks most with his eyes as he walks himself behind the dumb, beat cop from Atlanta with a loose nod, trying to show what side he’s more on than covering for. ‘Cause if Rick can’t see it, it’s up to Daryl to remind him, to be his moral compass for once.

“Three’s better than two.”

All it is is a few words, but Daryl knows they mean right. ‘Specially when Rick’s face flashes with consideration after they’re said. Or maybe it’s recognition? Right now Daryl can’t find the patience to pin it, not when they’re both so subtle… or change the fact that Rick’s still looking at odds.

Better yet, _past_ _him_. But Daryl doesn’t take offense, not when it means the man’s reflecting on his choices.

It’s in Rick’s eyes, the way they melt into something softer when they scroll down and away from Daryl and to the cop in front of him. In his hands, the way his thumb fine-tunes his grip and the side of the gun just long enough for him to curl his upper lip with nothing short of a snarl before he sharply drops his wrist. A gesture that Daryl takes as a signal to move in and zip tie the Atlanta cop who’s spent the best of his time huffing like a mad bull.

But just as Daryl does he nearly misses the beginning of that other look he knows real well.

Vulnerable. Rick’s features slump into a stare that makes him look like he’s back to being lost. It’s the same expression he used to wear those days at the prison after Lori’s death, like he’s haunted. ‘Specially with how he tucks his chin like he’s afraid to look up, how his mouth’s cracked and refusing to close, how he takes a couple more steps in place than need be, like he doesn’t know what came over him – like maybe he was _possessed_.

Which he was.

By love and his desire to keep his family safe, Daryl knows so. It’s the man’s one and only reason for acting like he’s ‘round the bend half the time – which all the more makes their relationship strained. Enough so that it nearly cost them their leverage for the girls, and in reflection Daryl jumps the zip-tie tighter ‘round the cop’s wrists with a little bounce.

Once for giving him a call closer than hell, a call he’d just survived by the skin of his teeth, and then another one for almost forcing Rick down a path darker than night. ‘Cause Daryl’s done losing people. First Beth, then Carol. Hell, he’ll be damned if he loses Rick on his watch too, and makes to tell him that when the man all but walks by ‘im.

“Rick.” With one hand still on the Atlanta cop, Daryl manages to catch Rick by the cusp of his arm just as it’s holstering the gun. “Ya al’right?”

The question doesn’t come out exactly how Daryl intended, more like a nag at his mental health than concern, but it does the trick. Rick stops and turns just enough of his shoulder to grant Daryl some attention before moving his mouth like he’s trying to find the right words to say. In the end though, he just goes with what’s still fresh on his mind.

“…Are you?”

Rick’s voice sounds so hoarse when he reaches out to rub at the dust covering Daryl’s shoulders, and for a minute Daryl can’t imagine why. Man hasn’t used it once since he came back for him and set off a staring contest with the cop. But when Rick speaks up again Daryl realizes it’s ‘cause he’s trying not to slate himself for stirring what’s already been decided.

“You know, thangs would’ve turned out differently if you got bit—”

“But I didn’t, so leave it be.” Daryl husks, knowing real well that he’s cutting in a little too fast, but it’s just enough clever to cripple the anger seeping back into Rick’s tone and let him finish. “S’ides, we need ‘im, Rick.”

“And _I_ need you.”

 _More than you know_ , is what Daryl really wants to say. But he don’t, simply bobs his head like he’s taking the words to heart despite already having heard them before back in Woodbury, and settles for something a little more their style.

“Yeah, and I’m still ‘ere.” It’s as grateful a saying as Daryl can make it out to be without sounding like a brush-off as he swings an arm and angles half his body towards the walker that Rick’d shot earlier, that stickler forever fixed, skin-deep in the asphalt. “ _He_ ain’t. So you can stop with that look.”

‘Cause outta all the ones he’s seen Rick wear, that’s the one right there that hurts him the most. The one that runs deeper than the scrapes on his arms. It’s an expression of fear. The distance in his eyes, it shows that Rick knows he almost messed up and it’s eating away at him like guilt’s always done – making him question his actions, making himself realize that maybe he’s still a little unstable, perhaps even heading down a dark path.

A path Daryl doesn’t want to see Rick tread. ‘Specially if it means going through another episode like today, riding shotgun to passion instead of being reasonable. ‘Cause they all have a job to do, a rescue that’s only gonna get a lot trickery along the way. But right now Daryl feels up for the challenge, like he’s gotta be strong – if not for himself than Rick, and tries to give the man something to think about besides his conscience.

“Don’ worry.” Daryl nods once. “We’ll get ‘em back.”

 _Them_ , being Beth and Carol, and before Rick’s mouth can even form into the question of, _how can you be so sure_ , Daryl counters with a squint past his tattered hair and a small crook of his lips. Something close to a smile and something he hopes is enough to put Rick at ease, to make him feel as satisfied as he does now…

“Got _you_ back, didn’t I?”


End file.
